


Ballade

by Nostalgia-in-Starlight (UniverseEndingParadox)



Series: Memento Mori [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Reversal, Aged up characters, Alternate Universe, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Established Relationship, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Wife!Victor, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Characters - Freeform, Possessive Katsuki Yuuri, Protective Yuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-13 14:05:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15366291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseEndingParadox/pseuds/Nostalgia-in-Starlight
Summary: Wherein Mafia Wife!Viktor gets a little more acquainted with the dangers outside of his ivory tower.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Song lyrics from Lana del Rey's "Honeymoon"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a part of the same universe as Nocturne, but can be read as a standalone.

_everything you do is elusive to even your honeydew_

~o~ 

There are blue roses in between his thighs - petals soft and featherlight where they brush his skin. Silver-grey wings embellished with tiny gems unfurl on either side of him, magnificent and ethereal. They capture streetlight from where it streams through windows overhead - a starry sky of satin and crystals on a bed of roses. There's stardust on his skin and in his hair, a barely perceptible shimmer woken by moonlight. His eyes, the color of arctic oceans in summer, stare unseeing while rivulets of tears trail down sculpted cheeks. He's an angel fallen to earth. An angel who has never flown, but living a life of luxury, thinks he knows what it feels like to fly.

~o~

Stretched out across a slab of polished marble, wrists crossed delicately over his head, naked except for the roses artfully arranged over his groin, Viktor tries not to squirm as a few more flowers are carefully placed across his chest by someone he can't see. There's a small crowd of people around him setting up camera equipment and composing the scene. He doesn't pay much attention to them. The marble is hard and cold beneath him, causing areas of his skin to prickle in discomfort. This isn't the worst position he's ever had to be in for a photoshoot, but it's one that requires a lot of patience. Despite being a seasoned professional, a whole entire day of over-the-top outfits, highly detailed sets, and impersonal touches can still wear him down. It's a good thing this is the last scene.

"Close your eyes," someone says to his left and Viktor does so without question. Makeup brushes sweep across his face while someone else fixes his hair - final touchups before the camera shutters start clicking. Slowly, the small crowd around him thins, leaving only the lead photographer, Lara Daye, in his periphery. They've worked together numerous times over the course of his career. He's played the star of her visionary high-fashion spreads in various glossy collectors' edition magazines and on billboards around the world throughout the years. Together, they've created some of the most stunning images of the industry in the modern age. This shoot will (most likely) be another one for the books.

Lara snaps a few pictures to test the lighting before getting Viktor's attention. "I'm all set, Viktor. You ready? Here's the mood I want for this scene ok?" The sound of violins fill the room, somber and lilting, singing of tragedy.

Viktor allows his eyes to flutter shut, letting the melancholy of the strings flow through him so he can embody the character Lara wants him to portray. He's an angel fallen to earth, beautiful and breathtaking and they've built an altar for him to lie on. But his majestic wings are broken. What if he'll never fly again? 

When he opens his eyes, it's with an aching heart and a heavy, soundless sigh. Gazing up through silvery lashes at the camera, he channels all the sadness he can muster and directs it at the lens. Somewhere in the background, there's a sharp inhale but Viktor doesn't break character. He must make a striking image lying here, long elegant lines and porcelain skin contrasting sharply with the deep-colored roses and embellished wings. Using the music as a guide, he shifts through a series of poses and expressions, mindful of the roses adorning his body. He arches his back slightly and levels a look at the camera, inviting the audience in to share his sorrow, to gaze upon him and do with him as they will. Tears gather in his eyes and when he blinks slow and pained, they spill over in crystalline streams.

"Perfect, Viktor," Lara groans softly, her camera firing away.

~o~

Later, in his dressing room, Viktor wraps himself in a silk robe and admires his makeup in the mirror. He takes a picture on his phone and sends it to Yuuri's private number with a small smile, then pours some makeup remover on a towelette. A moment later, there's a knock on his door. Viktor doesn't even get a chance to respond before the door is swinging open and his bodyguard, Sasha, is stepping through. He stays at the door, hand on the handle. Viktor catches Sasha's eyes in the mirror and something there makes him pause. "What is it?"

"We need to go," Sasha says without preamble, expression unreadable, more alert than his usual. 

"Now?" It's a rhetorical question, asked out of reflex. Of course, Sasha wouldn't be in here if this could wait. But Viktor has only just started on getting all the makeup off and he's still very naked under the silk robe. 

"The time tables have been changed." Sasha shrugs humorlessly. "Come on."

Despite the suddenness of the situation and his own slight dissatisfaction with it, Viktor is quick in gathering up the few things on the makeup table that are his. This isn't a common occurrence, but he'd promised Yuuri that he would follow Sasha's direction without (much) protest if anything were to happen. Sasha will always be more aware of the exact dangers of their lives than he and his sole purpose in their lives is to keep Viktor safe. 

Sasha doesn't rush him as they make their way out of the building and to their rental Mercedes S560, but Viktor knows him well enough to read the sense of urgency in the tight lines of his broad shoulders. He wants to ask what's going on, but knows it's unlikely he'll get a real answer. When they get to the parking garage, Viktor's other guard, Dmitry, already has the car idling and ready to go. He's the newest addition to their inner circle and has proven himself to be a valuable asset within the past few months. Like Sasha, he'd been hand picked by Yuuri to be a part of Viktor's personal security detail. He'd just shown up one day and Viktor hadn't really bothered to ask why exactly extra security was needed all of a sudden. He has his own theories, but as always, it's better that he doesn't know.

Viktor gets into the back seat without prompting while Sasha gets into the front. "Mr. Nikiforov," Dmitry says, glancing briefly back at him before shifting the gears and pulling out of the garage. The speed at which they leave gives Viktor a faint feeling of unease. It grows when Dmitry takes to the Singaporean streets and starts weaving in and out of traffic, passing by their hotel and continuing on for another destination. 

"What's going on?" Viktor asks again, pulling his robe tighter across his body, suddenly feeling vulnerable in the thin garment. He observes the quick glance Sasha and Dmitry share with trepidation. "Sasha? Where are we going?" 

"Mr. Katsuki is waiting," Sasha says vaguely. Viktor huffs under his breath, understanding from both experience and Sasha's tone that he wouldn't be getting more of an answer than that. It doesn't tell him anything, not where they're going or why they're going. Though he has two more photoshoots lined up for the following days, he gets the feeling that they've been either cancelled or rescheduled. His sense of unease grows as the city whips past outside the tinted windows and despite sitting in an incredibly comfortable seat, Viktor can't get himself to relax. He's not entirely surprised, then, when Dmitry drives them all the way to the airport to where his Gulfstream G650 is prepped, ready for flight. 

Both Sasha and Dmitry flank him when when he gets out the car. They usher him to the plane and up the jet bridge, pressing close on either side, shielding him. This, more than anything that's happened since the end of the photoshoot earlier, sets Viktor's heart racing. The plane's door is shut immediately behind them and Viktor is quickly corralled into his usual seat. Sasha drops into the seat next to him and despite the pounding in his ears, it doesn't escape Viktor's notice that Sasha doesn't loosen his grip on the gun in his lap until they're speeding down the runway. It isn't until the plane is safely at cruising altitude that he feels like he can breathe once more.

~o~

When they’d gotten married, Viktor had been completely unprepared for the sheer number of extravagant wedding gifts that they’d received from members of ally families. He and Yuuri had been together for two years at that point and he’d thought he’d gotten used to being personally gifted with expensive things (rather than being surrounded by them or given them for advertisement purposes). They’d come home from their honeymoon to find bottles of wine worth tens of thousands of US dollars, cases of gold bars, jewelry, and even a set of crystal dog bowls for Makkachin - just to name a few.

Of course, Yuuri’s gift had been the most ridiculously grandiose of them all. A brand new private plane, the best of its kind, customized with a small bedroom so that he would never have to be uncomfortable traveling to and from his international fashion campaigns. Viktor had been rendered speechless for nearly two days when he’d seen it. Over the years, the small room that Yuuri had customized for him had become a sanctuary whenever he had to travel alone. Today, more than ever, Viktor is glad to have this particular source of familiarity.

In the small room at the back of the plane, Viktor wills himself to relax and finish what he'd started earlier in the dressing room. Though he’s become pretty good at keeping his cool when it comes to yakuza-related events over time, Sasha's demeanor tonight had shaken him a little. It isn’t often that Sasha is truly on edge about something. Nor is it common for him and _the entire flight crew_ to not bother concealing their weapons in front of Viktor. He’s never been overly keen on having such a stark reminder about the cost of his peculiarly unique life. Therefore, everyone within his vicinity usually keeps their guns out of sight.

~o

The TV is on in the background as he takes his time getting the makeup off his face, but he's not really paying it any attention. His mind is racing, trying to think of a scenario that would necessitate such a abrupt departure from Singapore. He knows there's been some kind of unrest (within or outside of the yakuza he's not sure) that's been worrying Yuuri lately. They'd temporarily relocated to Fukuoka since the last gala three months ago -- and Yuuri has been absent more often than not -- but so far there's been nothing that's warranted anything like this. He also knows that they have a big event to attend later in the week, but even if the date of that had been moved forward, it can't be what has Sasha and Dmitry so on edge.

With a faint sigh, Viktor gets up to retrieve a change of clothes, mentally collecting himself in the process. There's really no use working himself up over this. He'll see his husband soon, wherever that may be, and everything will be fine. At the very least, Yuuri will give him enough information to assuage his more irrational fears and help him understand better why his trip had been cut short. Viktor can only hope that whatever it is, Yuuri isn't in any direct danger. 

He pours himself a glass of wine from the mini wine rack and settles into a corner of the plush sofa. It's not like a part of him doesn't always live in anticipation of these situations (if this can even be called that). Being married to the _wakagashira_ of one of the biggest yakuza families has its unbelievable perks, but Sasha's constant presence alone is proof that it is also a particularly dangerous position to be in. Despite not being an official member of the yakuza, he is perhaps more important than anyone else except for the _oyabun_ and Yuuri. 

Yuuri is the most successful and stalwart _wakagashira_ the family has seen in generations and is set to succeed the _oyabun_ in time. But. Despite how hard he tries to present an impenetrable armor to the world, he is not infallible. He has one weak spot that in turn makes Katsuki-kai vulnerable. One that they are both very aware of.

Viktor had realized when their relationship had become serious, that in the worst case scenario, he alone could jeopardize the future of the whole family. He means _too much_ to Yuuri-- and isn't that the most bittersweet sentiment ever? It’s something he's had to come to terms with and quietly accept on his own. When he'd accepted Yuuri’s hand in marriage and made the decision to commit to him, he also committed to being the _wakagashira’s_ personal brand of kryptonite.

~o~


	2. Chapter 2

_We both know the history of violence that surrounds you  
But I'm not scared, there's nothing to lose now that I've found you_

~o~

Dawn breaks over Fukuoka International Airport like a painting come to life as the night-darkened horizon recedes to tangerine daylight. Slowly the sky brightens, the last of the stars disappearing as the first glimpse of sunlight emerges from the horizon. Out on the quiet, not-yet-busy tarmac, massive planes sit, waiting to fly, their gleaming bodies and sweeping metal wings drenched in golden light.

At this time of day, only a few passengers are about the airport, the first scheduled departure still some time away, the first scheduled arrival yet to land. Most of the activity within the terminals are at cafes and shops as cashiers and servers working first shift open the doors. Bleary from the early hour, none of them pay much attention when two sharply dressed men in dark sunglasses pass by in a brisk walk (a stark contrast to the lethargic movement of most people) on their way to the glass observation deck a floor above. There, they stand at the floor to ceiling windows and survey the world below as FIA comes to life. In the span of seconds, they've catalogued all potential dangers along with the lack thereof. One of them takes a moment to send off a text before returning his watchful gaze to the tarmac. Ten minutes later, a small, sleek plane glides into view, approaching for landing.

When the Gulfstream G650 lands and taxis past the main terminal, finely tuned engines the loudest sound at the airport then, even the bleary-eyed passengers pause to gawk. Almost comically small compared to the commercial jets present, the mid-sized private plane with silver and black paint stands out like an Arabian stallion at a pony show. Curious, envious gazes follow the aircraft until it disappears from view and faces press unconsciously close to the windows as they try to catch just one more glimpse. It isn't until it becomes obvious that none of them will likely ever see the plane again that they back away from the glass, self-conscious -- disappointed that they didn't get to see who the plane belonged to. Moments later, the two men in suits and sunglasses from before breeze by, long strides purposeful and hurried, a few people are astute enough to realize that the two are connected to the small plane somehow. For better or for worse, it's the only thing they would ever know.

Outside the terminal, a carefully polished Rolls-Royce Phantom is idling at the curb, its powerful V8 engine surprisingly quiet. It, like the Gulfstream that had landed earlier, attracted even the attention of the most bleary-eyed travelers. Behind it, a BMW M5 also waits, its aggressive lines suggesting speed even in stillness. Then, almost quicker than most people can register, three foreigners -- an elegant silver-blond and two dark-haired bodybuilder types flanking him -- exit the terminal and beeline towards the Phantom, disappearing behind heavy doors and opaque windows. In the span of heartbeats, both the Phantom and the M5 roar to life and peel away from the curb and streak into the sunrise.

~o~

The penthouse is quiet when Viktor and his entourage of bodyguards arrive in the early hours of morning. Takeshi Nishigori, the head of their house management staff, and Makkachin are the only ones to greet them at the door. "Mr. Nikforov," he says, bowing deeply before scanning Viktor from head to toe with his eyes. Then he turns to Sasha and Dmitry. "Did you have any trouble?" Both of Viktor's bodyguards shake their heads, but none of them lose the tension in their shoulders.

Choosing to ignore the three of them for a few moments, Viktor kneels down and hugs Makkachin close, letting her lick his face in greeting. As always, the familiar warmth of her fur eases some of the tightness in his chest and he allows himself a few seconds to lean on her and just breathe. It's been a tense seven hours since the photoshoot that feels like a lifetime ago. Only when he feels a little more grounded does he look up at Takeshi and the guards -- who would usually have left him alone by now. 

"What's going on?" Viktor asks, voice weary but still demanding. He hadn't been able to fully relax on the plane, only managing to doze off shortly before they'd began their descent into FIA. It's been a full day and a half since he's truly rested and that combined with the unease in his gut is causing his patience to run a little thin. He watches the silent exchange between Sasha and Takeshi at his question and frowns in disapproval when Sasha shifts his gaze away, obviously deferring to Takeshi.

"Mr. Katsuki will explain," Takeshi demurs after some internal deliberation. Though he's obviously trying not to show it, Viktor can tell he doesn't want to have this conversation. 

"Is he around?" A part of him already knows the answer to that question and it's that part of him that makes him get up from the floor and start walking away, Makkachin at his side, before Takeshi has the chance to respond. Yuuri's been absent the past two weeks and the part of Viktor that's always lonely didn't bother to hope that he'd be here.

"He'll be back," Takeshi says to his retreating back, tone apologetic. Viktor nods in acknowledgement, but knows better than to ask when. He can feel Takeshi and his guards watching him as he leaves, but lets their presence fade into the background as he's used to doing. They'll let him know if anything actually needs his attention. Pausing at the foot of the spiral staircase, he considers going up to try and get some rest, but doesn't really want to be alone in the giant master suite right now. Instead, he heads for the kitchen, thinking a nice cup of coffee is what he really needs.

Of all the homes that they own around the world, this penthouse is one of Viktor's favorites. Despite its impressive square footage, the richness of its decor, and the sheer extravagance of its ameneties, the place feels comfortable, cozy even. The entirety of its interior is finished with Japanese-alpine detailing; the deep tones of the wooden surfaces creating an ambient warmth not found in the marble and chrome finishing of their penthouse in Tokyo. Still, even the coziness of the spaces feel a little cold without Yuuri around.

Viktor takes his time choosing from the cabinet full of different coffee beans while Makkachin sits watching him. He'd recently gotten into collecting coffee from around the world and that's led to collecting hand blown glass siphon coffee makers. There's just something about lighting a real fire and watching the coffee drip as the aroma fills the room that he finds soothing. While the coffee brews, Viktor leans back against the counter and closes his eyes for a moment. 

"What do you think is going on, Makka?" he asks his ever faithful poodle a few minutes later. "Should I be worried?" Makkachin wags her tail but doesn't say anything. She does pad over to lick his hand though, and well, that's at least something.

~o~

He's standing under the full force of the waterfall shower, skin pale and glistening against the dark terra-cotta tiles, when his _wakagashira_ comes home. Viktor feels rather than hears Yuuri step into the shower behind him and melts back into his embrace when arms encircle his waist, pulling him close. Gentle lips press against the unblemished skin of his shoulder, lingering, and Viktor lets out a long held breath. They stand like that for a long while, pressed together in comfortable silence, nothing but warm skin and steady heartbeats between them.

Eventually, it's Viktor who decides to move first. Reaching out, he presses a button that turns the waterfall into a warm steam that fills up the whole room before turning in Yuuri's arms so that they're face to face. The first thing that Viktor notices is how tired Yuuri looks, how there's worry in his eyes even though he's obviously trying not to let it show. 

"Yuuri?" Viktor asks softly, hand coming up to touch his husband's face and smooth back his hair. "What's going on?"

"I missed you," Yuuri says instead of answering, purposefully elusive. One of his hands trails up Viktor's back to the nape of his neck and pulls him forward so their foreheads touch. He sighs at the contact. "I missed you."

Viktor frowns and pulls away. "Yuuri, please don't keep me in the dark this time. You scared me." 

"Vitya..."

"Why did I have to leave Singapore like that?" Yuuri grimaces at the direct question. Though this is a dance they do often, every new situation requires Yuuri deciding just how much he wants Viktor to know, just how much he _can_ let Viktor know when he's trying to keep him safe. If Yuuri's ever caught by the police, it'll be better if Viktor knew next to nothing when he's inevitably taken in for questioning. 

"I don't want to scare you."

Viktor's heart rate picks up at those words, but he's made up his mind to see this one through. "If it's something that'll affect me I'd like to know. I can handle it." Viktor watches as a myriad of emotions flicker across Yuuri's face as he decides what he wants to say -- regret, anger, sorrow. In the end, he puts on a brave face, jaw squaring, eyes steeling, impassive.

"There was a call for a hit," Yuuri says quietly, almost pained at the words leaving his mouth. Viktor inhales sharply and Yuuri's arms tighten around him, protective.

"On me?" 

"No, no," Yuuri soothed, but he's frowning deeply, worried. "We don't know who exactly. The intercepted message mentioned only the significant other of an underboss." Viktor's stomach ties itself up into tiny knots as he tries to process this information. His instincts had been right. This is the exact type of situation that he'd been afraid of. For a single terrible moment, he thinks about all the horrible things that could happen to him, but the thoughts don't linger. He thinks it's because they're familiar. He's had years to imagine these scenarios, and it's been years since he'd stopped being afraid. 

Something must show on his face, though, because Yuuri's expression smooths into something more placid. "It'll be okay. Everyone's on alert." he promises while pulling Viktor even closer, one hand cradling the back of his head like he's something precious. Viktor goes willingly this time and tucks his face into the safety of Yuuri's neck, breathing in his familiar scent. They don't say anything more for a long while.

~o~

"Vitya," Yuuri says later while helping Viktor into the newest outfit he'd brought back. "I'm sorry for scaring you." He trails a hand down Viktor's arm, brushing away the invisible lint on the blue-gray cashmere sweater. His eyes are honest when Viktor meets them in the mirror, causing a surge of affection to flow through him.

"I don't blame you," Viktor tells him, truthful. When Yuuri looks unconvinced, he turns and drapes his arms around Yuuri's shoulders and looks him squarely in the eyes. "I would've done the same, had our situations been reversed."

Yuuri studies him for a second, but ducks out of Viktor's arms. He moves to the plush window seat and sits down with a sigh. His usually warm eyes are troubled, and Viktor wants nothing more than to erase the worry from his face. When Yuuri beckons him over, he goes eagerly, climbing onto Yuuri's lap and snuggling close. His lips tip up into a small smile when Yuuri presses a kiss to his forehead and pulls him that much closer before speaking again. "But they're not...and you're in danger because of it. Because of me."

They've had this conversation before. Or maybe Viktor's rehearsed it in his head. Either way, he already knows what he wants to say. "I made a choice, Yuuri," he says, as honestly as he knows how. "You were clear about what I was getting into when you asked me to marry you. I made a conscious decision to commit to you and this life knowing it had the potential to become dangerous for me. It's been a long time since I've come to terms with this."

"Vitya..."

"I love you. Nothing's going to change that." Viktor implores. He tips his head back, tilting his face to look Yuuri in the eyes. It's as far away as he's willing to move though. It's been entirely too long since Yuuri last had the time to hold him like this and Viktor's not about to let the opportunity go. "I'm not scared, Yuuri. I'm with you." 

Yuuri looks at him for a long time, expression changing from worry to resignation, then to pure determination. Warmth floods back into his eyes along with the fierceness that garners him so much respect as the _wakagashira_. "I'm with you too, love." He leans down and kisses Viktor, slow, deep; like he wants to give Viktor the world. As if he hadn't already. When he breaks the kiss to speak, it's with a gravitas that Viktor has never heard before. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, my Vitka. I'll burn them all to the ground if they try."

Despite the warmth of Yuuri's arms around him and the brightness of daylight spilling through the large window, Viktor feels a chill run down his spine.

~o~ 


	3. Chapter 3

_we both know that it's not fashionable to love me  
but you don't go cuz there's truly nobody for you but me_

~o~

The windows of the penthouse darken as the sun reaches the highest spot in the sky. Against the polarized glass of the master suite, a handsome yakuza lord sits surrounded by plush silk pillows. His eyes are dark and calculating as he looks out over the city, but it's peaceful, quiet. It's the calm before a perfect storm. A silver-haired angel is dozing lightly against his chest, safe and trusting and so loved in his protective embrace. Up here in a penthouse situated in their home city, the sanctuary they have built feels impenetrable. They are kings in all but name, ruling a carefully hidden yet unimaginably powerful kingdom. But the _wakagashira_ knows all too well how mighty kingdoms can fall. He himself has been the destroyer of empires.

All too soon, their peace is interrupted by the sound of knocking on the door. Four knocks -- a pause between the first and second, a staccato of the third and fourth. Blue eyes sweep open at the disturbance. Someone is waiting for them.

~o~

The sprawling, lavishly furnished rooms in the penthouse would have been perfect for entertaining guests. So, too, would the seven exterior terraces and large private onsen. Because all of their homes double as auxiliary safe houses, though, only a select handful of people have ever been granted the privilege of seeing its opulent interiors. When Viktor and Yuuri descend from their master suite, holding hands, they're both surprised to find one of those people waiting for them in the living room.

Silhouetted against the floor to ceiling windows on the other side of the room is Yuuri's older sister. At forty years old, seven years Yuuri's senior and ten years Viktor's, Mari Katsuki is a particularly formidable woman. Though she'd spent her teens and early twenties with her back turned to the family, partying in seedy bars, getting into fights, and drinking away her life, she'd since gained a reputation for being not just a fearsome brawler, but one of the most cutthroat business-women that the yakuza has ever seen. She runs a tight ship of some of the biggest, most lucrative gambling/arcade establishments around the world. Many of which she'd personally acquired through her own brand of hostile takeovers. Though he doesn't know the exact numbers, Viktor knows that her businesses alone bring in a good percentage of Katsuki-kai's annual income. 

One would never guess, though, looking at her, that she's part of the family. With her short, crudely cut hair and her preference for wearing ratty jeans with oversized tanks that show off her large tattooed biceps, she appears to be from a completely different world than Yuuri and Viktor who wear Prada to sleep and wake up in Armani. Her appearance is nothing but fitting, though. Viktor has met very few people who are as genuinely tough and somewhat terrifying as his sister-in-law. 

"Onee-san," Yuuri greets carefully while maintaining an air of nonchalance, "what are you doing here?" He doesn't move from where he and Viktor are still standing on this side of the living room. His face, when Viktor glances at him, is guarded - mirroring Mari's when she comes a little closer but stops well out of reach. The siblings appraise each other for a moment, neither offering any pleasantries.

"What, I can't visit my little brother once in a while?" Mari asks sarcastically. Yuuri's expression doesn't change, but he tenses almost imperceptibly at Viktor's side.

"We both know that's not why you're here." They've always had a strange relationship, Mari and Yuuri. Well, at least for as long as Viktor's known them. It's not that there's no affection between them, or a lack of kinship and trust, just that the nature of their lives is too strange to not cause some awkwardness. Not many people have a baby brother who's also a mafia kingpin. Even if she herself is also an important asset in the family. 

Mari laughs humorlessly at Yuuri's statement, then sobers completely. "I heard about the hit," she says seriously. Her eyes flick to Viktor for a brief moment before returning to Yuuri. Viktor hopes he looks more impassive than he feels, but she isn't really paying attention to him. He's used to this, though. "The message was first intercepted by one of my people. We're working on tracing it and finding out more."

"I have people on it too." Yuuri's voice is cautious, and he's studying Mari closely. When he finds what he's looking for, his posture changes into something less casual. Despite rarely seeing each other, Mari will occasionally play the role of unofficial advisor to the _wakagashira_. They're...not the best of friends, but Viktor knows Yuuri respects and trusts his sister enough to consider what she has to say (when he's in the right mood). "That's not why you're here, either."

Mari chooses her words carefully. "Something's up, Yuuri. Going to Monaco might not be the best idea."

A few months ago, one of their ally Russian families had called for an international meeting to be held in Monaco. Specific invitations had been extended to not only the highest ranking members of each ally family, but to their spouses as well. Attendance - though not explicitly stated - is mandatory for all invited. Using the annual Monaco Yacht Show as a cover, the families will be able to show up in their fancy cars, planes, or yachts without rousing suspicion. 

Yuuri's brows draw together in a deep frown. His eyes are dark when he speaks. "If you know about Monaco then you know I have to attend. A direct invitation from a Don is not to be taken lightly. We're leaving in two days. Why bring this up now?"

"Word on the street is that there's been some sort of set-up."

"Meaning?"

Mari's eyes flick to Viktor again as if she's uncertain whether he should be listening to this conversation. Yuuri hasn't signaled for him to leave, though, so Viktor stays where he's at. "You need extra security for this trip. I've sent some of my soldiers ahead to Monaco as precaution and to scout it out. They'll be there if you need them."

Yuuri makes a sound of annoyance. "If I'd wanted your help I would've asked for it. You do realize I have the whole family at my disposal."

"I know that. I know you are more than capable of handling this on your own. But trust me on this one, okay? Accept my help."

Yuuri's eyes narrow, unconvinced and clearly a little annoyed at being told what to do. He wraps an arm around Viktor's waist as he thinks over Mari's words. Viktor lets himself curl into Yuuri's side, offering silent support even though this whole conversation is twisting his stomach up into knots. For his effort, or maybe Yuuri can sense his distress, he gets a soft kiss to the temple. Mari watches the interaction between the two of them with an unreadable expression. When she starts forward to get closer, Viktor has to stop himself from flinching. 

Mari has never been his biggest fan. She'd been one of the loudest voices opposing his and Yuuri's relationship when they'd gotten serious. The _wakagashira_ / shouldn't have any personal attachments that could be used to compromise him she'd said - and had personally tried to convince Viktor to leave on more than one occasion. Yuuri had put an end to it, though, by threatening to make / _her_ leave. These days, Mari usually just ignores Viktor's presence, only interacting with him when it was necessary for appearance's sake. When she stops in front of Viktor and looks him up and down with a hard expression, he braces himself for the same old words to come out of her mouth.

"Do it for Viktor," she says instead. Viktor blinks, uncomprehending. "Protect what's yours."

If Viktor is uncomprehending, then Yuuri is downright disbelieving. The arm around Viktor's waist tightens possessively. "Since when do you give a shit about Vitya?"

Mari's eyes, when they hold Viktor's, are colder than winter in Hokkaido. He understands even before she speaks that this isn't about him at all. She hasn't suddenly changed her mind on his presence in their lives. Not at all. If anything, she's here to prove her point. "Since his safety might compromise my family, my livelihood," she shrugs. At Yuuri's scoff, her demeanor changes to something much more antagonistic. "Look, I warned you from the start that something like this might happen. Instead of leaving you on your own, I'm offering to help. So you better take all the help you can get so nothing happens to your precious Vitya." Viktor flinches at the way she spat his name.

Yuuri clenches his jaw so hard Viktor hears his teeth grind. His whole body is wrought with tension, and pressed to his side Viktor feels him tremble with rage at his sister's audacity. If Mari were anyone else, Viktor's sure her head would be rolling across the floor. 

"You are way out of line," Yuuri growls, voice low. "Get the fuck out."

~o~

One of the first things Yuuri taught him when they'd gotten together was how to defend himself. Some of their "dates" were spent at gun ranges getting Viktor proficient at handling a gun. Others were spent at a private gym where Viktor learned and practiced fighting with a knife, basic hand to hand combat, and getting himself out of situations such as being tied to a chair. He'd never imagined living a life where he'd need such skills, and Yuuri had worried that he'd run for the hills for being forced to learn, but he took to them with aplomb. His knife skills, in particular, far surpass what anyone expected -- the combination of his natural grace and agility lending to deadly technique.

For the first time since marrying into the family, Viktor is faced with the possibility of actually having to use those skills. When it comes down to it, though, he doesn't know if he'd be able to actually hurt anyone. He hopes he won't have to find out.

~o~

The two days between Mari and leaving for Monaco are spent preparing for the trip. Yuuri spends most of his time in meetings with Phichit Chulanont, his right hand man, and Kaito, his bodyguard. Sasha attends these meetings, too, when Yuuri sends for him. Viktor is left alone with Makkachin as his only company for the most part, playing the grand piano in the music room and soaking by himself in the onsen on the second floor terrace of the penthouse. It's not at all relaxing. Though he still doesn't feel afraid, per se, the whole situation sits heavily in the pit of his stomach. Never in their years of marriage has he seen Yuuri so anxious about a yakuza event.

The only times he gets to see Yuuri are during rushed meals where Yuuri spends most of the time too distracted to pay much attention to him and at night when Yuuri shows up to bed in the dark early hours of the morning and holds him too tight. They hardly exchange more than a handful of words over the two days. But Viktor doesn't resent Yuuri for this. He knows Yuuri is doing everything he possibly can to ensure their safety - to ensure _his_ safety. In return, Viktor doesn't whine or cling, only offering silent comfort and support when Yuuri lets him. 

Nevertheless, when it comes time for them to leave, Viktor can't help but feel a momentary surge of relief and joy. Yuuri had promised that they'd spend the entirety of the trip to Monaco together. No interruptions. So despite the possibility of real imminent danger, he's all too eager to board the plane.

~o~

Their new eighty million US dollar Bombardier Global 8000 has the best of everything the private jet industry has to offer -- including a standup shower in the en suite. The interior of the plane is all elegant lines and hand-sewn learther and large, beautiful windows that make the space feel extra wide. It's the first time that Viktor's gotten to take this plane and he can't help but feel a deep sense of exhilaration at seeing the final result of all the customizable details he'd spent a lot of time carefully selecting. When he sinks into one of the plush seats by a window, Yuuri next to him, he can't help but let out a soft sigh of contentment. Yuuri takes his hand at the sound. His eyes are weary but warm with affection when Viktor looks at him, and for the first time in forty-eight hours, things feel right again. Smiling, Viktor laces their fingers together and scoots to lean his head on Yuuri's shoulder. The smile is still on his face when, later, they're at cruising altitude and Yuuri leads him back to their private en suite after bidding everyone on board to get some well earned rest.

~o~

"Thank you for being so patient with me, Vitya," Yuuri says in the privacy of their suite, after they've both changed into something more comfortable for the flight. Yuuri's opted for his normal Prada loungewear while Viktor's chosen to simply wear his grey silk robe by Gucci. Yuuri's arms wind their way around Viktor's waist from behind and holds on tight. It's obvious to Viktor, then, that he's still tense with anxiety about this trip. "I'm sorry for how I've treated you these past two days." The remorse is clear in his voice.

"Don't. You don't have to be sorry," Viktor reassures him, letting his back mould to Yuuri's front as he melts into Yuuri's embrace. "I know why you've been busy. There's nothing to apologize for." 

Yuuri presses a kiss to the back of his neck. "I don't know what I've done to deserve you." He presses a few more kisses to Viktor's skin and runs his hands up and down Viktor's sides, reverent. Warmth fills Viktor's chest at the feeling.

"You love me." Viktor smiles dopily, but is earnest in his answer. He turns in Yuuri's arms and tilts his face for a kiss. Yuuri obliges without hesitation, kissing him slow and and achingly sweet. Neither of them need a verbal confirmation of Viktor's statement.

When they part, Yuuri cups a hand to Viktor's face and brings their foreheads together. "What do you want to do, my love? We have the whole day."

"Whatever you want, Yuuri. I just want to be with you." 

Yuuri looks at him in wonder for a few moments, before dragging him in for another kiss that Viktor's all too willing to return. Before long, his knees start feeling like jelly and it's all he can do to not fall into Yuuri's arms. He barely registers the hand that drops to the knot tying his robe together until the cool air of the cabin flows across the skin of his chest, making him shiver.

"Lay down for me, Vitya," Yuuri says, voice soft, crawling onto the bed after Viktor when he does so without question. The silk robe falls open with the movement and the shivers that race across Viktor's body this time are not from the chill of the air but from the way Yuuri's looking at him -- hungry and worshipping. The beginnings of a full body blush paints its way down his chest. Then, Yuuri is lying down on his side next to him, a hand brushing the fringe from his eyes as he pulls Viktor in for another deep, soul-binding kiss. Viktor doesn't know how long they stay in this position, bodies curled towards each other, making out like teenagers, Yuuri smoothing a hand repeatedly over the dip of Viktor's narrow waist while Viktor clings unabashedly to the front of his sleep shirt and heat builds and builds between them. He thinks he can do this forever.

Yuuri has other ideas, though. He rolls them so that he's propped over Viktor, then sits back on his heels to run his hands over Viktor's naked chest, over his hips, and down his slightly parted thighs. His fingers trail up and dip under the waistband of Viktor's little briefs. "May I?" Yuuri asks - like he needs to, like it's their first time again. The thought makes Viktor's breath catch in his lungs even as he nods an enthusiastic consent. 

With the briefs gone, Yuuri nudges his legs apart and settles between them, still fully clothed. Viktor moans quietly at the contact. "It's been so long since we've had time to do this," he says between drugging kisses and Viktor can only whimper out his agreement. "Will you let me in, my Vitenyka?"

"Yes, Yuuri," Viktor breathes out shallowly, trembling in anticipation. "Yes."

Yuuri takes his time opening Viktor up, his practiced fingers drawing sweet sounds from Viktor's mouth and kissing him silent when he gets too loud. When he finally sinks into the tight heat of Viktor's body, Viktor's long long legs wrapped around his waist, they both groan at the sensation. 

They stay like that for a long time, bodies locked together in intimacy, eyes never leaving the other, breathing in unison. Yuuri presses promises into Viktor's skin as they cling to one another, and Viktor whimpers a litany of I-love-you in between. They're in their own little world, worries about the future temporarily shoved aside. For now, hours and hours before the plane wheels touch down on a runway in Monte Carlo, Monaco, the world is only built for two.

~o~


End file.
